Wow Me, Lassie
by ExquisiteRose
Summary: Undercover at a club, Lassiter must do a strip tease onstage to win a contest and attract a killer who prefers winners for her games. Shawn, of course, is all encouragement-for the strip tease, that is. (Established relationship. References to sexual situations. One-shot).


**Pairing(s)**: Shawn Spencer/Carlton Lassiter. Hinted/pre-Burton "Gus" Guster/Juliet O'Hara.

**Inspiration**: Who's seen _Queer As Folk_? You'll find this is subtly reminiscent of the King of Babylon contest in S1/E2. There's no spoilers, but the host of the contest is meant to be the same person-not a cross over, however. Most definitely not.

**Additional Notes**: This was so sudden, I had no idea what I was writing until I was finished, and when I went back to edit, I added more. This is only my second _Psych _fanfiction, but since the first one was well-received (both here and on _archiveofourown_), I thought I'd take a chance with a second. Enjoy?

**Warnings**: Strip show in a nightclub, but no actual strippers (unless you count Lassie's undercover stint). Established relationship. Humor. Possibly OOC. Not betaed.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own _Psych_. No copyright infringement was intended in writing this. The author is no way affiliated with the writers/creators. The plot and any original characters belong to the author.

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"You're sure this is a good idea?" Lassiter asked Shawn nervously. He rubbed his hands over his suit, feeling spectacularly overdressed-and he'd taken off the suit jacket earlier. The heat of the club was making him sweat and the thumpa thumpa of the music was pounding in his ears, not to mention the sea of half-naked men and women. He turned his stool towards the bar, but didn't order anything, instead thumbing at Shawn's glass in front of him.

"It's the perfect plan, Lassie!" Shawn exclaimed. "Our murderer always kills the participants in these contests, especially the one that wins. I'm sensing she has a particular type, which is why she doesn't kill every winner," Shawn said, raising a hand to his temple."You fit the bill almost perfectly. You need to be in the action, and you love undercover work. What's the problem?"

Lassiter chose not to comment on all the ways this could go wrong, beginning with him not being able to dance and ending with him _not being able to dance_. "You're sure there's no other way?" Lassiter asked again.

"Lassie, you worry too much. You'll be fine. Anyways, Gus and I will be right here, cheering you on and slipping you twenties, and Juliet is here undercover, too, Lassie. She's the bartender," Shawn reminded him. Juliet waved over at them happily from where she was refilling a drink before resuming character. "All you have to do is keep everyone's attention for a few minutes."

"And win," Gus added. Shawn elbowed him sharply, and Gus yelped before glaring at Shawn. "I'm just being honest, Shawn. The man has to win this contest, and he's a little above the age limit. No offense," Gus said quickly, "but everyone here is below the age of thirty-five."

Lassiter's jaw tightened slightly, and Shawn patted him on the back. "Gus, I don't know how to break it to you, but you're the second oldest person here, if Lassie's the first."

Gus looked offended. "Excuse me, Shawn," Gus squawked indignantly. "I'm older than you by a month, two weeks, five hours, and thirty two minutes. The exact seconds weren't recorded, but I'm sure it was a very slight amount, less than thirty, most likely."

"Okay, first of all, _creepy_. Secondly, I didn't know you were so insecure about your age, buddy. Why didn't you tell me?" Shawn asked with mock concern, putting a hand on Gus's shoulder.

Gus shrugged him off. "I'm not insecure, Shawn."

"Why don't you go up there and dance, then? Show them that your month, two weeks, whatever doesn't mean anything," Shawn rubbed Gus's shoulders and smacked his back. "I'm in your corner, Gus. Go get them, the G."

Gus batted him away. "Shawn, I can't do that. You know I have random flarings of premature carpal tunnel, and, besides, my hips have been aching. Plus, we're not actually cops. Chief Vick banned us from participating."

"That's never stopped you before," Shawn persisted.

"No, Shawn, that's never stopped _you _before. You just drag me to these things. Anyway, I have a reputation to uphold," Gus added, looking over his shoulder smugly and waving at Juliet. She smiled.

Shawn noticed and, smirking, said, "If anything, Juliet will be impressed. Gyrating hips, sexy moves," Shawn said, wiggling his chest and undulating his hips. "The sexy pharmaceutical salesman. She'll totally dig it."

"You don't know that, Shawn. I'm not taking the chance. I've been laying down the groundwork for a few months, and the risk isn't worth it," Gus replied. "Why don't you go, if it's so impressive?"

Before Shawn could reply, the music began to lessen in its intensity, and a man in drag stepped up to the stage, dressed as Marilyn Monroe. "Hello, boys," she greeted. "Welcome back to the contest, where the competition is stiff and so are the contestants!" The audience laughed and cheered riotously. "Our next contestant is a man who likes to discharge his weapon, slam you into walls from behind, and cuff your hands behind your back to display his enormous.. power." She winked. "Ladies and gentlemen, raise your hands for Detective Lassiter!" She sashayed down the catwalk, gesturing with her arm.

Lassiter wiped the sweat off his forehead and swallowed nervously. "It's okay, Lassie," Shawn said, grabbing Lassiter's suit jacket from the stool and sliding it over his shoulders. "You're hot," Shawn whispered, planting an open-mouthed kiss onto Lassiter's mouth. "Your hips don't lie." Shawn winked at Lassiter and smacked his ass encouragingly as Lassiter nervously made his way to the stage.

"That's Shakira," Gus said after a moment.

"Hmm?" Shawn asked, distracted as the music began to pound loudly again. Lassiter slowly began to move from side to side, his face anxious and decidedly unsexy. Shawn frowned.

"It's Shakira's hips that don't lie, Shawn."

Shawn glanced over at Gus and smirked. "Lassie's didn't last night, or the night before. His hips happen to be surprisingly honest with the right inspiration, one might say... brutally so." He grinned, making the sharp movements with his hips.

Gus shoved his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, saying, "I don't want to know, Shawn, much less have a demonstration. We agreed. You and Lassiter get your man love on, and you let me live in blissful ignorance and don't remind me about it with the details." Shawn raised his hands in surrender. He was still watching Lassiter, who was now gently switching his hips, loosening his tie slowly. The crowd was interested, but the interest was waning. Everyone could see how reluctant Lassiter was, and his palaple dubious consent to dance was turning the audience off. "Maybe you should inspire him," Gus suggested after a moment.

Shawn glanced at Gus and then at Lassiter, who was unenthusiastically swinging his tie over his head, and nodded. Pushing his way through the audience, Shawn made his way to the front of the crowd, directly in front of the stage. Lassiter, who had noticed him about when Shawn was halfway to the stage, frowned. Shawn gestured for him to come closer.

Lassiter hesitated before dropping to his knees and leaning towards Shawn. The crowd booed and yelled their discontent. Shawn waved them off. Whispering, Shawn said lowly, "You're attractive, Lassie. The salt-and-pepper is sexy, and your leather holster says dangerous; but your dancing says hesitation." Shawn gripped Lassiter's jaw and moved his lips next to Lassiter's ear, his breath heating the skin. "I want your hips to tell me danger, and they should tell me it's coming soon, or I'll become impatient and take care of myself. Wow me, Lassie." Shawn placed a small, lingering kiss on Lassiter's cheek and moved away.

Lassiter's eyes were slightly glazed and his movements were lethargic as he began to dance again. He slowly swivelled his pelvis in small, blunt motions, hands pulling his buttons free. He removed his suit jacket and threw it into the crowd towards Shawn, who caught it with wink, a grin and an obscene amount of catcalling.

Losing himself in the performance, Lassiter could only remember ripping buttons, the loss of his shoes, and the unbuttoning of his pants, which is a pity because he'd really love to know when-and-how his pants had come off and how he'd almost lost his underwear. Indecent exposure was sure to curb his dream of becoming police chief one day.

Thankfully, his time was over. Judging by the number of whistles and blatant offerings, they liked him. Well, the performance.

Before he got off-stage, he glanced over at Shawn, who winked at him and gave him two thumbs up. Lassiter collected his clothes and walked off-stage to cheers and chants.

Redressing in the the back room off to the side, Lassiter straightened out his clothing and smiled. He'd enjoyed himself. Not that he'd take it up as a career or anything, but the endorphins and adrenaline that had been running through him had him hyped. He'd definitely have to add this to their.. extracurricular activities, especially since Shawn had seemed to enjoy it, too.

Walking back to the bar where Shawn, Gus, and Juliet were waiting, Lassiter grinned as they cheered and catcalled. Juliet served him a drink, but he only allowed himself a small sip. Shawn slapped his ass again, but when he leaned in, he whispered, "Back wall, to the left, blond hair, a lot of make-up. She'll approach you once they announce you're the winner."

Lassiter glanced at her. She was watching him with dark eyes, and she waved when she noticed his gaze. He quickly looked away. "How do you know that's her?" Lassiter asked.

Shawn raised his hand to his eyebrows and said, "I'm getting some major bad juju coming from her. It's mostly her bad aura, but also the make-up because it's really just terrible." Everyone turned and studied her for a moment. Shawn wrinkled his nose at her disapprovingly. Gus half-shrugged and nodded in agreement.

Lassiter gave Shawn a deeply unimpressed look. "Cut the psychic bullshit, Shawn. How do you know?"

Shawn sighed and gave Lassiter a withering look. "Suck all the fun out it, why don't you, Lassie?" Lassiter crossed his arms, then decided against it, and put his hands on his hips. "Fine. I _may _have noticed her staring at your ass almost as much as I was, _possibly _more. She also was looking at your front nether regions as well, especially when you lost the pants." Shawn glared at her, then at Lassiter. "And, really, come on, Lassie, it took me four dates to get you out of your pants!" Shawn complained. "Now, you're whipping them off for all these strangers. Is it the exhibitionism? Cause I'd have to say.. that's pretty hot." Shawn commented, looking at Lassiter appreciatively.

Lassiter blushed brightly, but was spared from responding when the Monroe drag queen returned. "All right boys and girls, get down on your knees, where you all want to be, and kneel for the winner, Detective Lassiter!" The crowd cheered wildly, and Lassiter went back onstage to collect his crown. As he tipped he bowed graciously, accepting a small coupon, and walked offstage, the woman approached him.

"They ought to not let you out, Detective Lassiter. You're liable to get into real trouble," she teased. Her blond hair shined in the lights from the stage, and her body was curved and supple, jutted out towards Lassiter. Her make-up was more unnerving upclose, and Lassiter felt uncomfortable seeing the layers caked on, covering her skin.

Lassiter smiled and walked a little dizzily. He was supposed to appear drunk, to be less of a target for her. "Should I be locked up, then?" he asked, fingering his cuffs and leering.

She caught the movement and grinned. "Definitely."

"And you're the one for the job?" She smiled at him and her eyes brightened with the excited lilt of the predator.

"If you want me to be. Maybe even if you don't." She leaned close to Lassiter and whispered, "There's a backroom further down for more than just preparing to go onstage. Care to join me?" Her smile was wicked, and her hand fiddled in her left pocket.

Lassiter chuckled lowly and ran his fingers through his hair, signaling Shawn and Juliet. Juliet waded towards him through the crowd quickly, and Shawn was at his side almost immediately, Gus not far behind. The woman startled slightly and glared at Shawn's sudden appearance.

"I'm sensing," Shawn said, hands flailing and groping dramatically at Lassiter, making the woman's glare deepen in annoyance; Shawn ignored her, and continued dramatically, "you're our killer." Her eyes widened, and she backed away, only to bump into Juliet. "Jules," Shawn cried, in the throes of his vision, "check her pockets, her left pocket! It's there, the drugs, they're there! And in her boot! There's a-a snake, a _snake _in her boot! _No_, no, a thorn, sharp-a _stick_?- a stake, a stake, no, it's-"

"A knife!" Gus exclaimed.

"Yes!" Shawn cried, coming out of his vision dazedly. "A knife, _the _knife, check her boot."

Juliet had already removed the drugs and placed them into evidence bags. Lassiter leaned forward to remove her boots and pulled out the knife, dropping it into his own evidence bag. As Juliet cuffed her, Lassiter read the woman her rights, "You're under arrest for the murders of Ian Adlington and Joshua Henry. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do will be used in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, the state will assign one to you.."

Shawn smirked as she was led away, and he grabbed Lassiter's hand when she was being pushed into the back of the police car. When she glared at him, he stuck his tongue out at her.

Lassiter watched amusedly, then pulled Shawn to his side and kissed his temple. "It's okay to be jealous, Shawn," Lassiter informed him, eyes bright and amused.

Shawn scowled. "Not jealous." Carlton smirked. Shawn's scowl deepened before he glanced suspiciously around him, then brightened. Leaning in close and slipping a fifty dollar bill into Lassiter's hand, he whispered, "Maybe an encore performance, Detective?"

Lassiter pocketed the money and pulled Shawn towards him by the collar of his shirt. Shawn felt aroused shivers go up his spine. "A private show?" Lassiter asked, breath hot against Shawn's neck.

"Will you wear the pineapple thong for the lap dance?" Shawn asked seriously.

Lassiter rolled his eyes affectionately and nodded, laughing when Shawn dragged him to his Crown Vic so they could hurry home.

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**A/N**: Don't be this crevice in my arm. Leave a review!


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